The Falmer King
by AncanoActuallyWrites
Summary: In an era long past, a Falmer man was pulled into an experiment that would preserve him through the ages. Thousands of years later, he is discovered by an odd bunch of researchers. With the awakening of the last Snow Elf in history, and Skyrim torn by civil war, the Falmer man rises high enough to make a last attempt at saving his home. But all great reigns end in tragedy.


**Hello all- I've decided to actually try and do justice to perhaps my biggest roleplay project ever. It's been with me for over a year now; characters, plot, and all. I have to give credit to my best friend Cello for helping this story come to life with her amazing characters and imagination. She's one of my absolute best friends and I love her so dang much!**

**I'll also do some disclaimers up at the top here:**

**A) The characters Nispar, Alerie, and Climbs all belong to Cello. I merely try and act in their character and do what they do in the story. Lorika, Aremor, and Krosinex are my own.**

**B) A lot of what I have written for my character Aremor is based on headcanon - the Falmer culture, his story, most of everything since the Falmer are practically a blank slate to toy with. Keep in mind this is my interpretation of what could happen in the Elder Scrolls universe.**

**And with that, I will shut up and... hopefully make a good introductory chapter to this story-**

* * *

It was an early morning in Whiterun, with the torchbugs just beginning to go back to their slumber and the sun peaking out over the plains outside the cobblestone walls. Dragonsreach rose high and mighty into the sky through the morning mist; the ancient stronghold's towering form shattered the sunlight into long slivers that divided onto the districts below in long, cool shadows and warm strips of gold. Chickens clucked and cows did their early-morning grazing on the dew-moistened sprigs of grass in their owner's small yards. The guards switched their shifts for the day, and the mighty Companions of Jorrvaskr were heading in and out for jobs to do.

Within the ancient mead hall of the 500, an odd gathering of sorts was forming at the long tables before the fire pit. They weren't actually part of the faction; rather, they were a party waiting for their two warrior escorts. It was a party of three: a lean Dunmer man, with a younger face and bright crimson eyes, the side of his head shaved and the rest of his black hair piled to the side at his shoulder. He stood behind a chair where his chubby Breton wife sat, her eyes focused on a map as she planned the route to the particular ruin they were bound to explore. Occasionally, her pudgy hand went to move a sprig of her shorter blond hair away from her face. Sitting in a separate chair was an Argonian woman with deep green scales and a head covered in wine-purple feathers, and two ivory horns curled under themselves at the side of her head. She seemed aloof from her companions, toying with her cotton sleeves and looking around with half-lidded amber eyes. The Dunmer, named Nispar, occasionally made a brief conversation with his wife Alerie, then getting a little annoyed when she only gave half-hearted replies. He understood though; she was focusing on her work. Then he'd sigh and look over to their friend Climbs-All-Trees, and feel even more bored when she seemed too distracted with her restless fidgeting to talk to him.

Below the main floor of Jorrvaskr, two Companions hurried around their room as they prepped for the journey ahead. One was a Nordic woman, young and black of hair with sharp features. She was tall and muscular with a tan from her many outings, and she was peppered in scars. The most noticeable was a large X-shaped assembly of scars over her right eye that was hidden behind a black patch. Her other eye was feminine and unharmed, but it had a bright and unnatural silver color. She was busy binding her chest down to fit beneath her steel Wolf armor. Beside the woman was a tall, golden-skinned High Elven man with a rugged face and bright-green eyes. He had his yellow hair up in a bun as he strapped his own steel armor to himself. Occasionally he stole glimpses at the girl beside him and then looking away quickly so she wouldn't know. They finished donning the signature armor of the Companions, then picked up their bags to go.

The High Elven man held the door open for his friend, who nodded to him with an accented, "thank yeh," before heading on her way. He smiled down at her, replying sincerely, "of course, Miss Lorika."

Together they clinked down the hall with armored boots, opening the door at the end of the stone hall and giving a series of "g'morning" greetings to their Shield-Siblings. Nispar was first to notice their hired guards come up the stairs, and he practically heaved with a relieved sigh. "Gods, you two took your time," the Dunmer told them with a peaked brow. His fingers tapped on the wooden backboard of the chair.

"I apologize fer that. Kros 'ere had to clean his rusted arm up and insisted I help," Lorika responded with a good-natured smile, elbowing the Elf beside her. He smiles in the charming bachelor sort of way, flinching at Lorika's elbow even though he didn't feel it hit his metal replacement arm. The Elf had lost the real limb the Great War about thirty years prior, but sometimes he swore he could still feel it there.

Alerie looked up from her work for a split second, replying, "don't worry about it, I'd rather you all be proper than early." She smiled cheerfully, her cheeks turning powder pink as she did.

"Are we going soon?" Climbs asked as she turned in her chair to face them. She was careful to watch her scaled tail with the chair and table so close to it; at the base of her spine was a brace made from Dwarven metal.

"Yes madam, I've already arranged a cart to take us to Markarth," the High Elven man named Krosinex replied. "the driver told me he would also take us part of the way south, then we would go on foot. I hope you do not mind."

"No sir," Nispar replied, although his face said he was already dreading the thought of a steep upwards walk in the snow. Alerie only shrugged, although inwards she was worried about her ability to keep up with the rest. Climbs showed minimal concern, not for herself but for Alerie for the same reasons. Nispar would help, and of course she would, the Argonian reassured herself.

Lorika crossed her arms, then saying with a hint of impatience, "I s'pose we are ready then?"

They all agreed, and with that said and done the odd-looking party of Man, Mer, and Beastrace left the ancient mead hall. Lorika and Krosinex took the lead naturally, courteously opening the front doors and then escorting their travel companions down the steps, beneath the barren Gildergreen tree, and into the Field District. A few of them stopped to do last-minute bartering at the market and then proceeded on their merry way.

After winding down the path from the Whiterun Gates to the stables, the group met their assigned ride. Krosinex did the lifting of bags and supplies into the wagon as Lorika paid the driver and helped them get settled in. As soon as they waved at the driver, the old Nordic man cracked his reins and the horse snickered and began to trot.

"Pardon me, but may I get a repeat o' the destination?" Lorika asked, facing Alerie from the wagon bench. Her legs were loosely crossed and her foot bounced with boredom.

Alerie cleared her throat before speaking, placing a hand on her chest as she did. "The ruin is called Dua-Kemel. Roughly translated, I believe it says Our Cliff. It's somewhere in the mountains south of Markarth, and if we can't find it, I am sure someone in that hold can tell us."

Lorika nodded, her shapely brows raising inquisitively. "Fer an expedition, if I remember right?"

"Yes, partially. It's been recently unearthed by a strange quake in the area. Myself and Nispar and Climbs live in Markarth, you see? We hear locals say that the whole area around Dua-Kemel is very strange. Naturally I wanted to investigate, as a Dwarven researcher myself."

"Anyone die or...?"

"I'm unsure of that..." Alerie said, her eyes widening a little at the thought. "Gods, I would hope not. That would be terrible."

The corner of Lorika's mouth turned up into a crooked smile. "It's a Dwemer ruin. Someone is bound to have died there. We'll have t' worry about the machines and Falmer if we don't want to end up on the pile."

"You are right in that, I suppose," Alerie said, a shiver simultaneously running down her spine. She was unnerved at the thought of ruins, knowing that people lost their lives there. Gods only knew how many did. Clearing these dangerous places out was one thing to her. But the history, the knowledge, stories, mysteries, that promise kept her going.

"I understand the queasiness, if that's what yer nervous about. Always chilling, going somewhere where you can step in the same place where a person fell. It's sad," Lorika told her, as she noticed the strange look in the Breton woman's blue eyes. The Nord caught her bottom lip in her teeth, feeling like she wasn't doing very well at comforting her. "I help m'self by rememberin' that it's all over for them. The dead ain't got a use for fancy gadgets anymore."

The High Elven man, Krosinex, listened in intently as his left hand busied itself with a quick drawing. The metal hand stabilized his book as the carved end of the charcoal stick impressed into the parchment, then flicked smoothly back and forth as he shaded shapes in. His eyes glanced to the side to catch a glimpse of Lorika, study her sharp and fierce features, smile, then go back to his sketching. It was the scene in the wagon: Alerie and Lorika talking as the land rolled past them, Nispar snoozing as his head rested in Alerie's lap, and Climbs looking lonesome as she watched the land pass them by.

He thought of drawing himself with them. Carefully, he scrutinized the page where the space to draw another person could be. But in the end, he sighed and shook his head. It was already perfect, with these natural faces and expressions, and the scenery was too good to smudge. Krosinex smiled with a sort of chortle. His ugly mug would surely ruin it. His sharp-edged face, thick brows, multitudes of scars, a big hooked nose and sad eyes could have been handsome to anyone else, but he just couldn't see it. The Elf closed his book and pocketed the charcoal, deciding to come back to the sketches later with a refreshed eye. He gazed at Lorika and Alerie with half-interested eyes as he looked for a place to join in on the banter.

The Nord woman had cracked open a juniper-infused mead, and was sipping from the yellowed bottle occasionally as Alerie was telling a story. "I used to be a part of an organization that was largely interested in Dwarven constructs and magic. Every chance I get, I try to go as deep into the old ruins as I can to find more knowledge and material, and I'm hoping to practice that knowledge as we enter this new one. I like to use the findings for good," she said, then glanced at Krosinex's prosthetic metal arm. Inquisitively, one of her brows peaked and she inquired, "how well does that function, Mr. Joroth?"

He scoffed with a sort of chuckle. "Pardon my bluntness, miss, but I will be frank when I say it's quite a useless hunk of metal." He rolled his shoulders to watch the rusting construct squeak and move limply. "I made it to keep my sanity, if you could say it like that. I swear I could feel my lost arm itching, or getting fever, gah, it drove me nuts, especially when nothing was there. So... I made a sort of filler to satisfy that. It's hard to explain."

The Breton woman smiled, "those sensations are common with many folk who lost limbs. My organization used our findings and knowledge to help people, and a common way we did so was making prosthetics. With the right tweaking and programming, our best works could even move and function."

The High Elf huffed air. "Gods, I'd love that. Doubt I have the coin though. I've been saving up to move out of the Mead Hall. It gets noisy, to say the least."

Lorika giggled behind one of her hands. "Yeah. I s'pose so." Her one eye and Krosinex's gaze locked with the mutual knowledge of the 'secret' most Companions had.

The band of warriors and researchers continued to talk as the horse-drawn wagon made steady progress towards the West. The sun was beginning to climb high in the bright sky, dotted by little horsetail-shaped wisps of clouds that would periodically block the sun. Occasionally, they would pass another carriage or traveler, none of which gave them much trouble. It seemed like a smooth ride was ahead. Of course, it was Skyrim; there must be trouble lurking around somewhere. But today the Gods showed mercy and allowed them safe passage along the roads.

* * *

The trip, by wagon, had taken almost more than three days to complete. The odd-looking band of travelers had time to get comfortable with each other, but nonetheless they were itching to finally make it to their destination. The driver had retreated back to Markarth for a change of horse and safety from Forsworn and bandits, leaving the people about a mile from the supposed sight of the newly-unearthed ruin of Dua-Kemel. It was nearing noon, as the sun bleached the rocky landscape with a brassy white glare that made all of them squint. Some had mud smeared on their cheeks to try and ease their eyes.

Snow was lightly dusted across some of the landscape, making moist spots on the stone and soil where it was melting. Multitudes of feet crunched and squelched in mud and solidified plates of the snow from the melting and refreezing. The two human girls lead the way, Lorika alongside Alerie as they followed the instructions on the map, and Nispar not far behind them with Climbs beside himself. They spoke to each other quietly about the day's travel, and their hopes for the ruin. Krosinex followed behind them all, as he wanted to keep an eye on their flank. He always travelled in the back just to make sure the party stayed safe.

They all glanced up with squinted eyes towards the mountains, rocky and jagged and partially hidden in a cloud of mist. Normally, a traveler wouldn't question the weather patterns of the Reach, as strange things usually did happen. But the sky above was nearly cloudless, not a sign of rain or snow or storm. It was relatively warm, too. The cloud of mist was thick and almost dark, and the area around it looked very snowy and icy. The Elves felt their ears twitch, and the rest of them cocked their heads with a peaked brow.

"It's mysterious, most likely that is where the ruin is," Climbs mentioned, scratching at the scales on her arm anxiously. "I wouldn't guess it would be anywhere else. Dwarves liked to be dramatic."

"I concur," Nispar added as he crossed his arms. He felt chilled when he scrutinized the blip of strange weather in the cliffs. "Now, how do we climb up there?"

Lorika listened to them, scratching behind her head and growling a little from the pit of her throat. "We'll need a big pair of balls each to actually climb up there. I don't think there'll be the courtesy o' stairs or easy hiking." Nispar chortled behind his hand at her statement, and he wholeheartedly agreed.

"Miss Lorika, if we go scouting, perhaps we can make the path a little easier," Krosinex mentioned, resting his good hand on the hilt of his glass war axe. "Move boulders around, clear out enemies, the usual drill I would assume. The rest could follow as we make progress." He glanced at her weapon's belt, noticing she did bring her pickaxe. "We might have to pass that tool around, by the way."

"I know," Lorika replied with a nod. Curtly, she pulled her black tendrils of hair up into a braided ponytail. She normally did this before work, like the act allowed her to perform better. With that she rested her hands at her hips, sighed, and said, "let's head up then." By habit, she took the lead, and Krosinex jogged up to meet her pace after double checking their flank. They walked close together, checking behind them to ensure the others were faring well.

Climbs was impatient, and so she trotted up to walk with the Companions. "I'm a climber myself," she mentioned, as if her name didn't allude to that fact. "I can help clear the cliffs. Any ice needing melting, Nispar can help with that." She eyed them both almost warily, especially the Nord. She half expected an insult.

"Good to know, we may need that skill. Thank you, miss," the High Elf responded with a curt nod as he walked, as he walked alongside both women."I myself know a good deal of ice magic, so if we need to construct anything I think I'll be of some use."

Lorika agreed,"Mhm, I think we'll be alright for it," she paused, both to hop onto a rock and then jump back down with a grunt, and to give a nod to Krosinex and say, "it might be difficult with yer one arm, but you know I got your back." She noticed the Argonian giving her a strange look, and she looked away quickly. The Nord had no problem with them, but the way they all looked at her made her feel guilty for something she didn't do.

Krosinex noticed the exchange of odd looks, taking note and deciding not to say anything. He stopped walking for a moment to size up the rockier edges and cliffs they were hiking into, glancing up at the mist in the reaches above them, and then back at Alerie and Nispar who were going over the map. The Highborn Elf chewed his lip, then thinking of what to do as he caught up with the two girls.

They'd stopped where the cliffs became steep and rocky, and on the pale rocks there was a thin crusting of ice and snow. Lorika pulled the Nordic pickaxe from her weapon belt, as well as her trusty steel dagger in preparation for the climbing ahead. It would be quite the trip, but it was nothing she wasn't prepared for. The woman had done far more dangerous things in her time with the Companions than this little trip.

"I'll climb up there and see if I can drop something to help us jump onto that ledge," Climbs mentioned, her long scaled tail flicking a little with anticipation. Lorika took a step towards her, holding the pickaxe and dagger out for the Argonian to take.

"Take care of 'em. They're my ma's," Lorika said simply, then backed up and watched Climbs go on ahead. They watched as Climbs hopped up and stuck the sharp end of the pick into the rock, then pulled herself onto the ledge and onto the small platform of rock. The Argonian woman even smiled, showing an array of needle-sharp teeth.

"I see a few boulders up here I can roll down. We should get up easy enough," she said, turning her head to glance upwards at the misted-over cliffs. Her hands rested on her hips and she squinted, thinking she could see the spyres of a tower through the clouded moisture. "I don't think the climb will be too long and dreadful."

"Says you…" Alerie grumbled, but only Nispar heard her. Comfortingly, he laid one of his thin hands on her shoulder and smiled in an assuring manner.

Lorika smirked, then her hind end jutted out as she stretched her arms in front of her, cracking her knuckles in the process. "I could jump up there and help get those down, help you lot as well while I am at it. I hate just standin'..." Krosinex nudged her with his elbow, whispering to her to be careful. She scoffed, shaking her head and making a running leap towards the ledge. Her hands gripped firm on the ledge, and with a heave she pulled herself up and stood with Climbs.

Both women disappeared from behind the crisp rocky edge, and soon enough they rolled rocks off the ledge. Krosinex cautiously went over to arrange them close together, and he would back away when he heard the two girls come close to the ledge to prepare to drop a few more rocks. In a few minutes there was a good pile, and everyone was able to get up safely: Krosinex and Nispar helped Alerie up onto the ledge, and Climbs helped pull the woman up. Then the High Elven man gave his brother Elf a boost, and both him and Lorika helped pull the big gold elf up with them.

A majority of the climb was this way; they would hike for a short burst, then they would have to pull over rocks and boulders to help each other get onto the next platform, ledge, or crag, then the cycle would repeat. Once every few steps of the way Nispar would melt some ice, Krosinex would form a short rigid ice step or some other thing to make their hiker's path less extreme. The closer they got to the misted area, the colder the air became. Lorika wasn't affected, she was born to survive that kind of weather. But the other travellers were shivering.

"Shit, it's cold up here," Nispar cursed, stepping in the snow that seemed to be getting thicker as they climbed further up. His red eyes narrowed as they focused on the flakes that were falling more frequently.

"Damn right. My balls are freezing," Krosinex told his new friend quietly, as to not disturb the women with the vulgarity. Lorika heard, but she only cringed and shook her head. She glanced over to Alerie, who was crouching and dusting away the powdery snow. Out of curiosity the Nord approached.

She crouched beside the Breton woman as she eyeballed the stone, her thin brows furrowing as she did so. Lorika was about to ask what was so interesting, until she herself saw: the stone was carved in a geometric design, and as Alerie swept more snow away, they saw the bronze glimmer of Dwarven metal. Lorika huffed a sort-of laugh out of surprise and relief, her thick black lashes fluttering a little when snowflakes fell on them. "I believe we found the old pathway that once marked the road to the old ruins," the blond woman said with a grin. "Almost there. By the Divines, this better be worth it."

"I'm drinking half the merchandise of the Silver Blood Inn when I get back there," Lorika muttered as she stood up. It was strange, but she was beginning to feel a little nervous about this. Dwarves were secretive, but the entrances to their ruins were never this tucked away. What was this lot of them hiding?

Nevertheless, the odd bunch sniffed around more. Nispar made a small ring of fire on the ground to melt away the snow and provide some warmth. "I think I found the old stairs," Krosinex called out over his shoulder as he pulled some boulders off a pile beneath a small overhang. "Small pile of rock is blocking the way. Let's get it all off and take this easy route."

They all set to work in pushing off what they could. Lorika proved to be especially handy, as she was almost unnaturally strong and energetic. Climbs did about as much work as she did, but she was also shivering and scratching at her scales. Finally they had managed to clear up a good amount of the path, and once again they set off into the mist.

It was thick and cold, so cold it hurt the back of their throats when they breathed. The steps were slippery as well; Alerie, Nispar, and Climbs all held each other as they kept trudging upwards. Lorika's hand was intertwined with Kros's as they walked behind the other three.

As all three looked up into the sky, they could see the dark form of the Dwemer towers come closer and closer to them. It only seemed to have one spyre, which in itself was a little small. That was a little strange. Lorika sniffed the air deeply, although the cold bit at the flesh of her nostrils. Something was different up here and she didn't like it. The air swirled with energy, magical energy. That was a bad sign already.

Up ahead, Climbs had her head turned down ro resist getting hit with the cold face-on. She opened her eyes a little, and noticed something strange: in the snow, there looked like there were footprints. They weren't from her friends, as these were not recent. The prints had been partially filled in with snow. "Guys…" she called, feeling nervous as well. "There are prints here."

"What?" Nispar said with a stressed kind of confusion.

"Old footprints in the snow, right here. Someone might be up there. They look big like a man's, either that or a woman with big boots. I don't know. But keep your eyes peeled," the Argonian told them, wrapping her cloak tighter to her arms. Alerie heard their exchange, but her attention was fixed on something else.

She could see floating orbs of bluish light through the mist as they got ever loser to the main spyre. They weren't torches, Alerie thought it might be magelight or candlelight spells. But there were so many, and some even floated very high up. This was a different magic already. "Look," she said, forcing her two friends to stop walking. Lorika and Krosinex joined them to see what was happening, and they all looked above to watch the floating blue orbs of light dance through the mist. It was hypnotising and chilling; the energy swirling through the air was so strong that all of them could feel it. Their spines shivered and they all became tense.

Some of the orbs became brighter, and they approached the travellers like curious insects. They bobbed and swayed with their tails of light swirling behind them, painting the vague grey landscape. Krosinex's pupils narrowed to needlepoints when he realized what these strange things were. "These are wisps," he whispered to the others. Lorika swallowed anxiously. She once read a book on wispmothers: they were said to have been powerful witches, perhaps reaching this sort of lichdom through magic rituals. They might have been regular women before, even Snow Elven from what that author had stated. Those creatures were evil anyhow. She did not like this one bit now.

All their eyes fixed on the three curious wisps poking around them, swerving close and then darting away like a spooked fish. They looked like they were sizing up their prey. Whispering noises came from them as they wooshed smoothly over their heads. It was terrifying and fascinating all at once.

"Let's follow them. Whatever is up here needs t' be flushed out," Lorika hissed. Her one eye narrowed at the mysterious creatures float away back towards the spyre. "Destroy them too. That's how we'll end up weakening the mother."

She went up the steps by herself, despite Krosinex protesting her by saying, "What are you doing? They could kill you!" Climbs took off after her, careful not to slip on the icy steps. With no other choice, they all followed the Nord up to the main plateau towards the spyre. It was windy, and the wisps in the area fled from Lorika as she pressed on towards the main doors. She eyed them with suspicion, noticing they weren't even shut. There were tonal locks to the side of the doors, and one was slightly agape. The footprints that Climbs mentioned made more sense now. Someone up to no good was in here, Lorika thought, and people like that should either be jailed or killed.

Lorika took a step forward, but something in her mind told her to stop. Climbs was first up on the platform, and she watched as this Nord woman suddenly paused before the great brassy doors. They could hear a ghostly humming, soft feminine singing in a foreign language. It was heavenly and soothing, and the wisps seemed to react to it. They swirled in random motions, dancing to this song sung by their mother since they were just made into her image. They swirled close around Lorika, illuminating her black hair with blue light. Her one silver eye reflected it like a mirror, and when she glanced over her shoulder to see the rest of the group, her eye looked bluer than clear sky. Something in Lorika's mind was taken over, and she turned away, walking into the ruins and leaving all the others behind.

Climbs ran to stop her, and Krosinex wasn't far behind. The man helped Alerie and Nispar up onto the platform before following the Argonian. Before they even knew what happened, the great doors shut with a great squeal and slam. The tonal locks at the sides of the door glowed bright blue, and they swirled up their brass poles and stopped with a hiss as they reset. Dua-Kemel was now locked up tight. The wisps seemed to stop, twitching now and then. But then, they all slowly swirled around, gathering together into a great mass, and they began to swarm.


End file.
